No Illusions
by tiylaya
Summary: A little self justification from Anderson.


**No Illusions**

This vignette is based on the 1977 animated series 'Battle of the Planets' by Sandy Frank Associates. Neither the characters nor the concepts are mine.

Feedback, reviews or comments are welcome. I've not written anything for several months and am out of practice, so apologies if the prose in this seems a little clunky. I have to say, I don't entirely agree with Anderson's viewpoint here, but this is what he wanted me to write ...

* * *

The world is a big and scary place.

We try to hide from that fact, try to deny it, but any child could tell you the truth.

It's strange that our period of clarity is so brief.

To an infant, their mother's arms are protection enough. Nothing can penetrate that barrier. Nothing can harm them with a parent's love to shelter them.

To an adult the world is ordered. Logical. The rules of society shape it, the conventions of civilization calm and constrain it.

Only a child sees the world without those mental barriers. Most of us block out the memory. Who would recall that dreadful day when aged three, sometimes older, sometimes younger, we step out from our circle of protection and see the world in all its glory, and all its terror. We open our eyes and realize that we are helpless, too small, too weak. The world is out there and it is vast. No one controls it, and no one ever can.

Some children become shy and timid. Others pretend bravado, showing a defiant face to the enormity. A few reject the concept and 'grow up' early, passing straight from innocence to the disenchantment of youth. They never know childhood. They never learn the caution that comes of experiencing that fear.

A child fights differently to an adult. They'll throw heart and soul into the battle, and yet fight warily, their thrusts and parries aimed at what they know to be there, rather than striking out against what could be there ... what they believe should be. I'm not saying that an adult can't do battle with their eyes open. But, no matter the training, no matter how brief it may become, there is always that moment of doubt when an adult simply cannot believe what their senses tell them.

The day we start to believe our preconceptions rather than our eyes, that day is the start of the path to adulthood.

What did Einstein say? "Common sense is the collection of prejudices acquired by age eighteen". Intelligent man, Einstein. He might not have known where his clean socks were, but he knew what he'd lost when he gave up his childhood.

* * *

Every newcomer asks the same question.

I sit quietly, waiting for it to come as the generals and admirals and politicians convene. In every meeting there's one man who is newly elevated to these august councils, and as soon as he can he asks the question:

"How can you do it, Anderson? How can you put children in the field?"

I answer honestly, "Adults could not do the things they do."

Most of the questioners are hushed at that point, President Kane or one of the more experienced officers intervening to change the subject. About one in four takes it further, demanding to know how I could take innocents and steal their childhood.

And all I can do is gaze at the circle of closed minds, of preconceptions and prejudices, with a kind of pity, although I know that I have prejudices of my own. I don't deny it. Instead I acknowledge it, watching myself constantly for its effects.

But explain that to these men? No. I hold my silence, and eventually the questioning lapses and we turn instead to business. Silence comes easily to me, no need for self-justification or self-defence.

Because I know that these children were long past innocence. And I know that I did not steal their childhood, instead I trapped it, preserved it. I never let them unlearn the truth. I helped them to understand that the world was truly as big and scary as they have knew it to be, but that they didn't need to hide from it or shut it out of their heads. I gave them back that moment that can make the difference between life and death. They face the trials of the world and fight them, without ever blocking the horror or the wonder of it from their minds.

These children laugh and play. They see simple pleasures for what they are, and take them when they're offered. And they see peril for what it is, and know what they have to do, without undue arrogance or pride. They have no illusions to hide behind, and precious few to take comfort in. They do their job, and they do it well.

So well.

One day, I hope - I pray - my children will be able to grow up, relaxing back into the cozy illusion of reality that you and I wrap around us. One day they wont need to maintain their harsh, frightening edge over those around them. They'll be able to block the memories. They'll be able to ease into the comfortable mental world that adults inhabit, living by what they think should be the truth, rather than by what they know to be real.

One day.

But for now, they live and fight as children.

Wide-eyed, wonderful children.

My children.

My G-Force.

**_The End_**


End file.
